


Expecting

by LittleSparrow69



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Community: spnkink_meme, Guilty Pleasures, M/M, Mpreg, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-30
Updated: 2015-05-30
Packaged: 2018-04-01 23:38:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4039003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleSparrow69/pseuds/LittleSparrow69
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John and Dean are in a consensual relationship. Dean is pregnant with baby Sam and loving it.  Kinkmeme prompt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Expecting

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes you need a bit of fluff in the midst of all the more hardcore kink writing. Two of my guilty pleasures are mixed up in this one. Mpreg and John/Dean. Another early fill that I had forgotten about.

"Who’s idea was this?" Dean asked as another shovel full of dirt landed next to his foot. 

"Dean..." John's voice was muffled from inside the grave. 

"It's like ninety degrees."

More gravel landed at his feet. 

"In broad daylight." 

A deep sigh. More dirt. 

"I'm hungry." 

"You're sitting on the cooler. Eat a banana," John's voice is distracted, slightly irritated. 

"I don't want a banana," Dean pouted. 

"Then eat an apple." 

"You ate the last one," a hint of accusation laced the words. 

No response. Just more digging. Then...

"I bought some oranges earlier." 

Dean screwed his face up at the thought. "I tried one, they're sour." 

"Of course they are," came the mumbled response as John hit pay dirt with the shovel. "Finally." 

John popped the top and climbed out of the grave, layered with sweat and grime. Dean handed him the lighter fluid and they both watched as Bubba Turner went up in smoke. 

"Well that was anti-climactic," Dean said dryly. 

"The binding ritual tied him to the house. We'll have to swing by, make sure it’s clean" John dropped to his knees next to Dean and took the proffered bottle of water. "Later." 

 

He guzzled half the bottle of water as Dean watched, gazes meeting for a brief second before John ran a gentle hand over the substantial swell of Dean's stomach. They smiled at each other. 

 

John made quick work of filling the grave back in, not worrying too much about the finishing. Out in the middle of nowhere, the small Turner family plot had been neglected for years. No one would know or care. 

 

"Ready?" John wiped his brow and held a hand out to Dean to help him up. Almost eight months pregnant Dean would be lucky to manage on his own from his position on the cooler. 

He took his father's hand and let himself be hauled to his feet, gripping tight when a wave of vertigo almost unbalanced him. 

"Whoa," John quickly caught his elbow and stepped in close to steady him, "okay?" 

"Yeah," Dean's voice was shaky and thin, "gimme a sec. Just...must've gotten up too fast."

"Take your time," John tagged on a "sweetheart," knowing how much Dean hated the pet name.

"Don't...don't call me that," Dean was a little breathless but sounded stronger. 

The fact that Dean called him on it at all made him smile. "Let’s go," he said, guiding his son to the Impala. He opened the door and helped Dean lower himself into the seat. Dean leaned back against the seat, eyes closed, with a small moan. 

"What?" John asked, sensing something was off. "What is it?"

"A little nauseous," Dean revealed, then, "I'll be fine."

John immediately opened the glove box, reaching for the saltines. Dean cut him off when he heard the crinkling of the wrapper.

"Ugh...no, please, I can't..." he started, turning his face away. “Just need to not move for a minute." 

John put the crackers back, resting a hand on Dean's knee before going back for the shovel and the remainder of their gear, stowing most of it in the trunk. When he crouched next do Dean inside the open door of the Impala with the cooler, his son didn't stir. John took the small hand towel he'd commandeered from the motel and soaked it in the ice water at the bottom, wringing it out. 

Dean gasped, lips parting, as John pressed the cool cloth to his forehead and then lovingly smoothed it over his face and neck. John dampened it again before running it down each of Dean's bare arms.

Dean's eyes were open again, watching him. 

"Better?" John asked. 

"Much," Dean said tiredly, sounding a lot more like himself. Then, "I should be taking care of you. You did all the heavy lifting...I just supervised." 

"I shouldn't have dragged you out in this heat, but I wanted you with me," John admitted. "I'm sorry."

Dean looked distressed by the apology, brow furrowing in concern. 

"Shhhhhh," John kissed away the frown, softly melding his mouth to Dean's, openly loving in a way he rarely was. 

A more blatant display of affection than he was used to, Dean wasn't quite sure how to react. He dropped his eyes and changed the subject, hand going to the swell of his belly. 

"I don't think Sammy cares for the heat all that much," he said. 

John covered Dean's hand with his, lacing their fingers together. "Sammy's doing just fine. You take real good care of him," John accentuated his words with a rub to the full belly. "I'm more concerned about you right now." 

"I'm good," Dean insisted, uncomfortable as always with the focus on him. "Just tired," apparently the nausea had passed, "and maybe a little hungry." 

John smiled. He could work with that. Dampening the cloth with cool water again he handed it to Dean. They had about a half hour ride back to town and their air conditioned room but something good to eat and an afternoon nap curled around Dean sounded damn near perfect. 

"Anything you want," John declared as far as the menu went. Dean had been really good throughout his pregnancy, eating healthier and even going so far as to give up his coffee. If he wanted pizza or Chinese or even a burrito, his wish was John's command. "Just name it." 

"Anything?" Dean looked skeptical but hopeful, a mischievous light returning to his eyes. 

It warmed the deepest part of John, filled him with the kind of love he'd never thought to find again. He laughed, free and easy, head thrown back. 

"Anything,” he said to Dean's answering smile, "you can have anything you want and that's what you choose?" 

They'd had the discussion earlier that morning. Every once in a while Dean would crave one particular food and not want to eat anything else for three to four days. It was a constant compromise to work other things in, especially if Dean got it in his mind that this particular food was actually good for him and little Sammy.

John shook his head in amusement and kissed Dean's forehead. "Fruity Pebbles it is." 

Dean looked ridiculously young and happy about it. 

John rooted around inside the cooler until he found the granny smith apple he'd hidden earlier, in hopes that Dean would go for the oranges. 

"Here," he tossed it to a narrow-eyed Dean with an innocent smile. 

End

**Author's Note:**

> Fruity Pebbles. It's a thing. If there's an mpreg craving its gotta be Fruity Pebbles, lol!


End file.
